When Present Becomes Reailty
by Chemins
Summary: Second in my trilogy, following When Past Becomes Present, you should read that first. Harod has come to claim vengeance for Nostela's death. Not for the faint of heart.


This is a sequel to my last story, When Past Becomes Present. Can be read alone, but I suggest reading the other first.  
  
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Aragorn rubbed Hasufel down with a soft cloth as he whispered to him in Elvish. The horse whinnied and nudged Aragorn's shoulder. "I am well, my friend." The horse seemed to accept this and went through the rest of his rub down without a sound. As Aragorn pulled the saddle onto Hasufel's back, his side wound screeched in protest.  
  
Shocked by the sudden pain, Aragorn nearly dropped the saddle. Slim hands grasped the other side of the saddle and Legolas frowned, "You should reconsider this scouting patrol. You're not completely healed." With the elf's help, Aragorn saddled Hasufel, and the ranger shook his head. "No; if I waited for my wounds to heal, then I would be stuck in bed for another two weeks at least."  
  
He shot a grin to Legolas and added, "I've had enough mothering, thank you." Legolas replied with mirth in his eyes, "If I do not mother you, who will?" Aragorn laughed aloud and swung himself onto Hasufel. "Well, elf, are you going to saddle Arod or do you plan on walking?" Aragorn dodged the small pebble aimed for his head.  
  
Gandalf walked in at that moment, and Aragorn looked at the rock he had in his hand, aimed for Legolas. The ranger looked at it and let it drop to the ground. "Oh no, Legolas, father's here. We cannot fool around any more, and we must act like the princes we are." Legolas laughed loudly at Aragorn's deadpan expression, and Gandalf also chuckled. "Have you two finished fooling around? We do have a patrol to run."  
  
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Gimli looked at Legolas and gruffly said, "You could have let me ride in front. I can't see anything!" Aragorn looked back and smiled as he saw Gimli poking the elf's back. Legolas grinned and looked behind him. "Would you prefer to walk, master dwarf?" The elf glanced at Aragorn, grinning widely, and the other shook his head. "Two thousand years old and he still acts like a child."  
  
Gandalf looked over at him and said slyly, "I do believe it was you I caught with a rock aimed towards the young prince's head." Aragorn grinned. "What are you going to do, tell my father?" Legolas pulled Arod up beside Shadowfax and stated, "I do believe that Elladan and Elrohir would have a field day with you, Aragorn, if they found out you were misbehaving."  
  
The ranger was about to smile when his danger sense went on alert. He pulled Hasufel to a stop and looked around, taking in the surrounding hilly country. "Aragorn? What is it?" Aragorn looked at Legolas and said, "Something doesn't seem right. Can you sense anything?" The elf looked around, eyes narrowed, and after a moment, said, "No, I cannot. Perhaps your senses are not tuned in since your long stay in bed."  
  
His words were meant to be a jest, but Aragorn didn't seem to hear him. He just kept looking around, one hand resting on his sword hilt, and finally whispered, "It's Harod...Harndun wasn't here alone. He brought his son with him."  
  
There was a clapping sound behind him. "Very good, murderer! I was wondering how long it would take you!" The horses whipped around and the riders took in the lone man who stood, glaring them down. "Harod..." The man grinned. "Seems like you remember me, killer. Of course, how could you not? You did, after all, kill my sister." Gimli and Gandalf looked at Aragorn in shock, and Legolas growled, "It was not his fault! He did everything to save her!"  
  
Aragorn held up a hand, stopping Legolas. "Harod, it's me you want. Leave the others out of this." Harod shook his head. "No, and for one reason. You do not deserve to have friends like you, and I will show them that." A second later, a creature crawled from Harod's quiver, and Gandalf cried out, holding his head. Aragorn laid a steadying hand on the istar's shoulder. "Where did you find a rwocuel?!" The other grinned madly. "Mordor. They grow without bounds there."  
  
Legolas pulled his bow and notched an arrow, aiming for Harod, who merely shook his head. "You, my pesky elf, are predictable, always relying on your bow to win for you." Aragorn saw what was coming before it came. "Legolas, don't!" Too late. The arrow released and headed for Harod's face. However, right before it got there, it deflected towards the ground.  
  
Legolas looked in shock, and Harod explained gleefully, "You see, scum, this creature has a special property. It takes an istar's powers and blocks them, and gives them to the carrier of the rwocuel. So, now I have all the powers of Gandalf the White." Gimli leapt from Arod and brandished his axe. "You will pay for attacking my friends, demon!" Harod looked unimpressed. "Oh yes, and the dwarf. Easy enough to do away with." He held out his hand and created a fireball using Gandalf's powers.  
  
"Surrender to me, murderer, and I will spare their lives." Without a thought, Aragorn jumped from Hasufel's back. "All right! Leave them be!" Harod's face was one of pure joy. "That was too easy, killer. But don't worry, I'll have fun with you." Keeping the fireball in place, Harod ordered, "Dismount, all of you. Drop your weapons to the ground, and don't try anything or I will kill one of you, whoever I feel like."  
  
Aragorn immediately began unstrapping his sword; it fell to the ground with a thud. He ignored his friends and disarmed himself quickly. Legolas shook his head. "Aragorn, don't do this! He'll kill you!" Aragorn didn't respond. With a sigh, both fighters also disarmed, and Gandalf let his staff drop to the ground. Aragorn looked around and saw that Harod was inspecting the fireball in his hand, obviously stunned by it.  
  
Taking his chance, Aragorn turned to his horse quickly and shouted, "Rima, Hasufel! Rima!" The horse reared up and took off, and Shadowfax and Arod took his example. The horses thundered off, and as Arod passed, Aragorn pulled his Elven broach from his cloak and stuck it into the leather of the saddle. The clip held it tightly, and Harod turned to Aragorn, enraged. "That was a mistake, murderer!"  
  
Without a warning, he suddenly launched the fireball. It struck Legolas in the chest, sending him to the ground. Gimli was at his side instantly, looking at the elf. Legolas was unconscious, and his upper right chest was a mass of burnt, black, festering flesh. Aragorn closed his eyes, feeling the guilt weigh heavily on his heart.  
  
"Now that I have your attention, killer, you would do well to do as I say. Dwarf, Istar, carry the elf. And you, Aragorn, come here." The man swallowed hard but walked forward. The first hit came from the side, a vicious right hook that broke Aragorn's still healing lip. The blow whipped his head around, and Aragorn winced as he turned back to his captor.  
  
He met his eyes defiantly, and Harod growled, "You will learn to fear me, soon enough, killer." Another blow, this one to his stomach, caused Aragorn to drop to his knees, gasping for air. Harod smiled down at the kneeling ranger. "Is this what it feels like, killer? Is this how it feels to have people bow down to you?" The other couldn't answer as Harod snapped his foot to his midsection.  
  
Aragorn fell to the ground, dazed, and Harod suddenly went into a kicking frenzy. He repeatedly slammed his foot into Aragorn's chest, making the ranger cough for air. Gimli started forward, but Gandalf put a restraining hand on his shoulder and looked down meaningfully at Legolas. The dwarf growled and knew the implications. If he tried to help, he'd end up like his friend, or worse.  
  
But that knowledge didn't stop him from wincing as Aragorn let out a small cry, accompanied by a snapping and crunching sound. Harod stopped kicking, his eyes satisfied. "Hope you enjoyed that, killer, because there's plenty more coming." Aragorn didn't answer; he just lay on the ground, his arms wrapped around his chest protectively, and coughed hard. Gandalf started as he saw blood come up with the cough.  
  
Aragorn wiped the blood from his mouth, cringing as his body protested the movement. Harod didn't see the blood, so busy was he with a coil of rope. "Sit up, killer." Aragorn made no move to comply, and Harod angrily yanked him to his knees. This made the ranger groan and Harod tied his wrists together behind his back, none too gently.  
  
The rope was so tight it cut off circulation, and the weave so coarse that it bit into Aragorn's skin. Pulling another length of rope, he tied one end around Aragorn's bound wrists, tight once again, and tied the other end around his throat, with no more than an inch of extra rope. Harod tied one end of the coil to Aragorn's collar, making a leash, and pulled hard on it. Aragorn staggered as yellow spots danced in his vision.  
  
Satisfied, Harod turned to the other two. "Lead; walk where I tell you. Carry the elf. If you misstep or try anything stupid, like your friend here, then the killer will be punished." Gandalf tried to lock eyes with Aragorn, to try and determine his state of health, but Aragorn's eyes were closed, his face ashen. Nodding submission to the crazed man, the Istar heaved Legolas to his feet, Gimli on one side, and the group started to move deeper into the hills.  
  
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Aragorn struggled to his feet from where he'd stumbled. The group had been moving swiftly towards a stand of woods in the distance for the entire day. Every jostle sent waves of agony crashing through the ranger's system, and every time he fell, his automatic reaction was to put out his hands to break his fall.  
  
This left his gasping for air as he choked the air from his lungs. Legolas had been in and out of consciousness, and through some sheer luck, when he'd awoken lucid for the first time, it was too dark for even his Elven eyes to make out their situation.  
  
As the moon sailed far overhead, Harod finally pulled on Aragorn's leash, signifying a rest period. "We stay here for five minutes. Rest up." The ranger coughed painfully and wiped his mouth on his shoulder. The coughs had been becoming more frequent, and more and more blood was being brought up. The pain in his chest was sapping Aragorn's strength, and a gash in his temple from his hairline to his cheek told of a fateful encounter with the ground.  
  
Aragorn looked around, using the moonlight to his advantage. Legolas was lying on the ground, with Gimli tending to him, and Gandalf sat staring at Aragorn, whose leash had been tied to one of the sparse tree trunks. Unable to bear the gaze of his friend and mentor, Aragorn looked away. If he'd had a little more self-confidence, he would've seen concern and worry, instead of shame, in the other's eyes.  
  
Harod was patrolling the area, looking every so often at his captives. Aragorn looked at the insane man and whispered to Gandalf, "Run. You and Gimli can carry Legolas out of here and get out of range of the rwocuel. Make for Helm's Deep." Gandalf shook his head adamantly.  
  
"No! I will not leave you here in the hands of this...madman!" His voice had risen, and Harod turned, annoyed. "Planning some escape, are we, my lord Aragorn?" The title was spoken in mockery. "We can't have that, now can we?" Harod knelt beside Aragorn, and with gentle, belying tenderness, untied the collar that was attached to Aragorn's hands.  
  
Then, with a sudden jerk, he pulled it tighter, waiting until Aragorn had to gasp for every breath before stopping. He tied the knot at this point, and watched as Aragorn struggled to force air into his abused lungs. "Now, that should stop you from speaking too much. You'll be so bothered with breathing you won't have time to talk!" Laughing in an insane manner, Harod untied the leash and pulled Aragorn to his feet with it. "Break's over. Let's go."  
  
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Legolas looked around, confused beyond belief. He felt someone underneath his arm, half carrying him, supporting him. He was also aware that his chest ached and burned, but was not that painful. Of course, judging by how gritty his eyes were, he realized he'd been unconscious so long that his Firstborn blood had started to heal his wound. "Aragorn? Gandalf? Gimli?" A hand over his mouth silenced him, and he turned towards the source. "Gandalf?" His question was muted, but the wizard nodded. "Quiet, Legolas. Your being awake will probably agitate Harod more."  
  
Legolas allowed his senses to open. He smelt the charred flesh and cloth of his wound. He sensed they were walking through a dense forest, and all he could see were shadows. He tasted death in the air. He felt Gimli to his left, helping to steady the elf. Then he heard...breathing. Labored breathing and struggling steps.  
  
Thinking at first it was him, he concentrated on his own breathing. But he soon realized it wasn't. Turning his head slightly, his annoyance with the situation grew as he realized the light from the moon was not in a good position to illuminate behind them. He could, however, see two vague shadows walking. Actually, one was walking. The other was staggering, and the other kept pushing him forward.  
  
Turning bewildered eyes to Gandalf, the wizard softly whispered, "After you were unconscious, Harod beat Aragorn. I fear that he has some internal injuries, though I do not suspect Harod realizes his captive is dying. He also has restricted Aragorn's air supply, and we've been walking nonstop for the last day and a half. It's a wonder the boy was able to keep this pace up." His explanation was ended, however, as the stumbling person behind them fell, and this time did not rise.  
  
The other figure moved past a tree's shadow and into the light. Harod stood, glaring down at Aragorn, who was gasping for air. "What, can his highness take no more of this?" The ranger didn't answer, and Harod shrugged. Pulling a fireball from the air, he pointed it at Gandalf. "Get your feet, Aragorn, or the wizard will be next on your conscience." Legolas silently pleaded for Aragorn to stay down, for, even though he could not see his friend, he did know Aragorn desperately needed the small break.  
  
His pleas went unanswered, however, as Aragorn somehow found the strength to pull himself to his knees. Harod pulled him up the rest of the way by tugging on his leash. Shaking his head, Harod spat, "Always willing to do whatever it takes to save your friends. Pathetic." In the light of the fireball, Legolas was startled to see how pale Aragorn was.  
  
A thin sheen of sweat covered his face, and his eyes were glassy with pain. Aragorn caught Legolas' eye and, when he realized he was awake, gave a nearly unrecognizable shake of his head. Legolas understood; Aragorn didn't want his friend in harm's way, so he was telling him to play possum until he couldn't anymore.  
  
Legolas found the will to pull his eyes from his friend's shaking form, and decided to do as his friend asked, though his heart cursed him for it.  
  
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They arrived at Harod's camp only a short while later. The night still had hours left to play, and Harod seemed pleased by that. Lighting a fire using his fireball, he grinned as the shackles attached to the trees gleamed. Aragorn saw the shackles and looked at Harod with shock. "You've been planning this?" His question was whispered, and Harod nodded.  
  
"Aye, that I have. Ever since Saruman started to destroy the villages in Rohan, my father and I were setting up everything, and keeping tabs on you. We knew that once you made your way to Edoras, and once Théoden was, undoubtedly, cured of the poison the wizard had in him, then he would make for Helm's Deep. You, of course, would go with them. It couldn't be more perfect." Harod stopped his explanation then and turned to Gimli. "Go to that tree, dwarf." Gimli huffed and walked to the tree that the man gestured at.  
  
Keeping an ever watchful eye on his other two prisoners, Harod skillfully shackled up the short being. Harod turned to Gandalf next, and without words, the Istar carefully set Legolas on the ground. He walked to the tree he was told to, and Harod shackled him in the same fashion as Gimli. When he turned to Legolas, he frowned. "Get up, elf. I know you're awake." The other didn't move. Aragorn felt concerned for his friend, knowing that Harod didn't like being ignored, and decided to draw his attention.  
  
"Why can't you just leave them out of this?" His ploy worked. Harod changed his course towards Aragorn instead of Legolas. "Why? I already told you why, killer. You don't deserve them." Out of the corner of his eye, Aragorn saw Legolas stand slowly and creep up behind Harod. However, he also noticed that Harod had heard the elf and the crazed man drew a dagger from the folds of his sleeve.  
  
Panicked, Aragorn asked, "If I don't deserve them then why did you hurt Legolas?" Harod grinned; he knew that Aragorn knew he knew (A/N: Confusing, ain't it?) that Legolas was awake. "Oh, I could do so much more to him if you don't call him off. Maybe kill him." Aragorn ground his teeth, then turned his eyes to Legolas. The elf was preparing to jump Harod, and Aragorn said through gritted teeth, "Legolas, don't. Just go to one of the trees."  
  
Aragorn saw the confusion and shock in Legolas eyes, and silently said, *I could not bear to have your death on my heart, mellon nin. It would kill me.* Legolas frowned and nodded. He backed up and Harod turned. "You are wise to heed your friend's," he nearly spat the word, "advice, elf. To that tree." Legolas growled deep in his throat but did as he was told. Once he was shackled up, Harod turned to Aragorn, who was sitting on his knees, gasping for air. He walked slowly, his steps deliberate.  
  
When he got to Aragorn, he used the dagger to slice through his bonds, cutting the wrists first, then the cord that tied them and his collar together, and finally sliced through the collar itself. The sudden rush of air into the ranger's lungs caused black spots to swim through his vision. Aragorn fell forward, catching himself on his hands. He took heaving gulps of air, trying to satisfy the burning in his lungs. He didn't breath too deeply, however, because his ribs shrieked in protest. Harod grabbed Aragorn's jacket and hauled him to his feet.  
  
Aragorn stumbled along, not resisting, and allowed himself to be shackled to the tree closest the fire. Legolas looked at his friend in shock. Aragorn's throat was torn, blood dribbling down his chest. The long gash on his face still bled slowly. Aragorn's skin pallor scared the elf, and the way Aragorn wiped his mouth on the shoulder of his jacket seemed to confirm Gandalf's fears that Aragorn did have serious injuries.  
  
Harod stoked the fire for a minute before turning to Aragorn. He sat on a rock and said, "Well, killer, elf, you two know why I'm doing this. Istar? Dwarf? I don't suppose Aragorn told you what happened, did he?" Gandalf snapped, "You will pay for this dearly, Harod. Mark my words." Harod growled, "That wasn't the question, Istar. Did this killer tell you who I am?" When neither Gandalf nor Gimli answered, Harod shrugged. "Very well. Shall you tell them or I, killer?"  
  
Aragorn looked up from his slumped position and murmured, "It wasn't my fault. I couldn't...I did everything I could for her." Harod spat harshly, "Wrong. If you had, then she'd be alive." Turning to Gandalf and Gimli, he said, "I am Harod, son of Harndun, of the village Shinow near the Swanfleet bog. My mother was Kossa, and she died giving birth to my little sister, Nostela." At the name, Aragorn bowed his head and closed his eyes tightly against the memories.  
  
Harod saw this and grinned sickly. "What, do you not wish to remember my sister? Oh, of course you don't! All you did was kill her! Nothing too bad, just killed her." Aragorn shook his head fiercely, ignoring the pain in his head as his stomach flipped. "No! I tried...everyone tried to save her." Harod rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, elves. Your precious Elven family. Elladan, Elrohir, and Elrond Halfelven. Then, of course, there's Arwen Undomiél."  
  
Aragorn's head shot up and Harod walked up to him, dagger in hand. Placing the point at Aragorn's neck, he forced the ranger's head up, and the light of the fire danced over the jewel that hung around Aragorn's neck. Harod reached for it and grinned when Aragorn shied away from his touch. "Oh, come now! It's just a rock tied to some gold. It can't be that precious to you." He reached for it again, and when Aragorn once again resisted, he applied pressure to the blade, causing more blood to trail down to Aragorn's chest.  
  
This time, Harod grabbed the necklace and pulled it from the ranger's neck, breaking the chain. He held it up, looking at it carefully, then went and sat down on his rock again, pocketing the necklace. "Where was I? Oh, yes. Then, this killer here walked into my uncle's inn and requested a room..."  
  
*FLASHBACK*  
  
Everyone in the inn looked up as the stranger came through the door. The wind slammed the door shut behind him, and the innkeeper, So'be, walked up to him, slightly nervous. A glance from him sent everyone back to their drinks. "I'm So'be, the innkeeper. C-can I help you, sir?" The figure's face was concealed by the dark cloak he wore, and his clothes were all black, if not drenched by rain. So'be recognized the man as one of the dangerous wanderers, a ranger. "A room for the night and dinner." So'be nodded quickly. "That's be no problem, mister...?" The man's eyes suddenly reflected the firelight as he turned, showing them to be a dark gray. "Strider."  
  
So'be nodded again and hurried behind the counter, grabbing a key. "Here you go, sir. It'll be up the stairs, on your right, room four." Strider took the key and said, "I'd like dinner delivered to my room." So'be hesitated. They didn't normally do that. However, Strider's cloak caught a draft of wind as another patron entered the inn, and So'be paled as he saw the long hilt of the sword that hung at Strider's side. He also saw two daggers in his belt, and, as he looked back up, he also saw a loaded quiver and bow on Strider's back.  
  
He nodded hurriedly. "It shall be brought to you soon. Tonight we have hearty deer and..." He trailed off as Strider walked towards the staircase. Heaving a sigh of relief, he turned and called towards the back, "Nostela! Harod! Get together a plate!" He walked into the kitchen and saw his nephew and niece working diligently preparing food.  
  
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help, kids." Nostela looked up, her seven-year-old eyes shining with delight. "Really, uncle? Are we doing good?" So'be picked her up and twirled her, smiling as she giggled. "Oh yes, Nostela. You and your brother are doing marvelous. Now, we have a special guest who wants his food delivered to his room. So get a plate together, make sure it's nice looking, and tell me when you're done."  
  
Nostela nodded and got to work as soon as So'be set her down. Minutes later, she called, "Uncle! Plate's ready!" Harod looked over at his younger sister and grinned. He was four years older than her and watched out for her like an older brother should. Leaning over her shoulder, he said, "Don't forget to put some bread on the plate." Yelping at her carelessness, she placed a hunk of bread on the plate just as So'be walked in.  
  
"Oh my goodness, Nostela! Excellent work! Now, Harod, go with your sister and take this plate up to room 4. Nostela, why don't you carry this cup and pitcher, okay? Careful not to spill it, alright?" Nostela nodded eagerly and picked up the items carefully. She followed Harod out the door and So'be shook his head with a sigh. "Kids, so young, so naïve, and so willing to please. By Valar, I love those kids."  
  
Harod kicked the door twice with his foot, his hands to full to knock properly. The door was hauled open a moment later, and Harod looked at the man in slight admiration. His cloak had been removed, and his dark hair hung down his face, wet from the storm. His gray eyes took in the boy and girl, and he stepped aside, allowing them entrance. Harod set the plate down on the table in the room and helped his short sister place the pitched on the table. When he turned, he saw the man leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching them carefully.  
  
He'd removed his jacket and tunic, but upon his guests' request for entrance, he'd slipped on a leather vest. Harod took in the man's hard muscle and saw some scars along his arms and chest, where the vest didn't cover. Harod quietly asked, "You're a fighter, aren't you?" The man cocked his head and stared at the boy. Nostela pulled at Harod's tunic and whispered, "Uncle says not to talk to the patrons, brother! He says their business is their business!" Harod watched as the man's eyes softened at the sound of the innocent girl's voice.  
  
"It's alright. I'm a ranger, young one. Strider, as most call me." Harod asked curiously, "Most? Who doesn't call you Strider?" The other Man chuckled. "Those who don't know my name." Behind him, Harod could hear the sounds of the storm die down, and realized the rain had only been there for twenty minutes, at the most. Strider heard this as well. "The front is moving again. Quicker, this time." He turned his eyes from the window to the children. "It's late. Shouldn't you two be getting home?" Harod drew himself up. "We're helping our uncle, we are! He needs help, ever since mum and aunt Ena left."  
  
Strider took in the boy's tone and bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry for you loss." Bittered by memories, Harod sniffed, "What would a ranger know of loss? His alliances are with none, and he travels alone, killing everyone!" These words seemed to stay Strider for a moment before the Man quietly said, "I know of loss, little master. For even rangers have parents." Harod looked to the ground, ashamed at his outburst, but the ranger shook his head, stepped forward, and knelt in front of the boy.  
  
Placing a hand on his shoulder, Strider whispered, "It will go away. Remember your mother and aunt for the time you had with them, not without them." Harod nodded and smiled miserably. Strider squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "You'll make it, little master. You'll make it." Behind Harod, Nostela sneezed once, and Strider's eyes hardened. "Are you sick little one?" Nostela wiped her nose with a small handkerchief. "Uncle says it's a cold, nothing more." Harod didn't like the look in the ranger's eyes. "What is it?"  
  
Strider seemed to be brought to the present and he shook his head. "Nothing, little one. Thank you for the food. Miss, you'd do good to drink some hot tea with some boiled grapes. It will help your cold." Nostela smiled shyly and nodded. "Thank you, sir. I'll ask uncle." She pulled once more at Harod's hand, who nodded towards Strider and took his leave, Nostela following. As the door shut, Strider's eyes narrowed and he stood from his kneeling position. Turning his eyes once more to the windows, he murmured, "She has no cold."  
  
*END FLASHBACK*  
  
Harod paused his tale and he turned to Gandalf. "Upon first glance, I didn't even think this man was a healer. He was a ranger; rangers only brought death with them. I should have heeded my father's warnings right then and gotten out of there with Nostela immediately. But I stayed." His voice took on a tinge of regret. "You offered words of comfort and advice, which I heeded. That was a mistake." Aragorn shook his head. "You were a child! You were in emotional pain! I couldn't just let you wallow in self- pity!"  
  
Harod pulled himself to his feet and slapped Aragorn across the face, hard. "You should have left me and my sister alone! Wallowing in the pain I felt would have been paradise to what you put me through later!" Gimli, thoroughly engrossed in the tale, and wanting to keep Aragorn from further harm, asked, "What happened after that?" Harod punched Aragorn once more and sat back down near the fire. "That night, the woods dried. It was humid due to the rain, and the rain hadn't soaked that much. Then a building caught fire..."  
  
*FLASHBACK*  
  
Strider awoke with a start as the smell of burning reached his nose. He jumped to his feet and darted towards the window. His eyes widened as he saw several buildings down the road burning in the pre-dawn sky. Turning quickly, he pulled on his now-dry clothes and strapped his sword to his belt as he dashed down the stairs. He clasped his cloak as he came to a stop beside the door that blocked off the inn from the private quarters. "So'be! Wake up!" There was a thump on the other side of the door, and a moment later, So'be appeared, rubbing his head.  
  
"Strider? What in the name of Valar is it? Do you need something?" Strider quickly said, "The town's burning. It seems to have started in the east. Where are the two children that were here last night?" Strider's words shook So'be out of his trance. "They went home early this morning! They should be with their father; they live in a room above the stables." Strider closed his eyes in despair. He'd come into town through the east gate, and he knew that the stables would more than likely be on fire soon, if they weren't already.  
  
"Get dressed, and meet me at the stables." Strider turned to go, but So'be caught his arm. Strider turned, confused, and So'be asked, "Why do you care about the children so much?" Strider growled, "You told the girl that she has a cold?" So'be nodded, and Strider shook his head. "She's got pneumonia. With her breathing restricted as it is, one breath of smoke could cause her to seize and die from suffocation. We have to find her and get her out of harm's way." So'be nodded quickly. "I didn't know..." Strider placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll find them." Strider turned quickly on his heel and hurried out of the inn.  
  
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So'be found the ranger having a heated argument with Harndun, father of Harod and Nostela, near the edges of the forest. He arrived and asked, "Harndun? What is the trouble?" The other spat, "This ranger wants to go off into the woods looking for my children! He says he saw their tracks leading into the woods, away from the fire." Strider nodded. "They were near the building that seems the most badly burned. I think they might've seen who started it, and were either chased away or scared away. However, theirs are the only prints, which leads me to believe they were scared away."  
  
So'be saw that Harndun was having trouble believing that his children could be caught in the now-burning forest. "Please, brother. Let him go. He seems to have the children's health in mind." Harndun looked reluctant, but nodded. "Fine. If you find them, bring them to the village square right away." The ranger asked, "What are their names, so if I call for them, they will answer." So'be answered, "Harod is the boy, eleven years old, and Nostela is seven." Strider nodded, glanced at Harndun, then hurried into the woods, where he disappeared from sight.  
  
Strider ran hard, his eyes traveling over the ground, looking for signs of the children. The wind had shifted, blowing the smoke from the fire into Strider's area. Coughing from the thick black smoke, Strider pulled an edge of his cloak to his face, covering his mouth and nose with it as he continued on. His eyes watered, but they relentlessly combed the ground for any sign on the children.  
  
He came upon his first clue at a small stream. There were two sets of footprints in the soft earth, one set slightly bigger than the other. Strider looked in the direction the footsteps had taken and saw that all the smoke from the fire was around that area. He took a step forward when he suddenly heard something above him. Strider drew his sword just in time to run through a spider that had attacked him. The huge arachnid fell to the ground, and Strider jerked as the implications hit him. Spiders were attracted to smoke, and even Strider could detect the smell of burning flesh, which only enticed spiders. And the children had run right into the thick of the smoke.  
  
Keeping his sword drawn, Strider knelt next to the stream and soaked two fine Elven cloths in the liquid. He stuck them carefully in the top of his quiver. Strider brought the edge of his cloak to his face again and ran through the woods. He despaired when he realized that the area he was running towards had caught fire. Strider knew that if the children were in the fire, he'd have trouble finding them.  
  
Strider heard the children before he saw them. There was one wailing and one screaming, and, being children, Strider couldn't tell which was doing what. However, he dashed into the burning clearing and immediately went on guard. Four spiders were circling the two terrified children. Nostela was the one sobbing, and Strider knew that she'd already been bitten. However, his fears compounded when he saw that her clothes had been burnt as well, and there was the suffocating stench of burned flesh. Turning his eyes towards the spiders, he slaughtered them quickly and with a vengeance. Ignoring the burning in his chest as he inhaled the smoke, he turned to the children.  
  
Nostela was passed out, her fair golden hair pillowing her head. Harod was kneeling beside her, trying desperately to wake her up. He stopped when Strider knelt next to them. The ranger pulled the two wet cloths from his quiver. Handing one to Harod, he ordered, "Hold this over your face, it will make it easier to breath." Harod nodded and did as he was told. Strider looked over Nostela's body quickly, taking in the multiple burns that covered her small body. Shaking his head, Strider pulled his Elven cloak from his shoulders and wrapped Nostela in it, the carefully placed the wet cloth over her face.  
  
He carefully picked up the girl and said, "Harod, follow carefully. Stay close." The boy nodded fearfully and Strider started to quickly make his way to the edges of the forest. By the time they'd arrived at the village square, Strider was gasping for breath amidst painful coughs. The villagers who weren't helping put out the fires were there, and they parted when they saw the stumbling ranger and child. Harndun and So'be ran up to them, and So'be relieved Strider of his burden while Harndun carefully looked his son over.  
  
"What happened? What happened to Nostela?" Strider panted, "They ran into...the smoke and...were attacked by...spiders. She's bitten and burned. She also has...pneumonia." Harndun paled and looked over his daughter, who lay motionless in the folds of Strider's cloak. He cried out, "We do not have the medicine to combat the spider's venom! She is going to die!" As the man wept bitterly, Strider looked at the girl, still trying to regain his breath. Finally, he said, "Let me take her to Rivendell, where the greatest healers are. They have medicine to help her."  
  
Harndun jerked as though he'd been slapped, and Strider quickly said, "They can help her, cure her. I will bring her back, alive and well, I promise." So'be quickly said, "Brother, listen to him! He's been good to his word so far. She will die if she stays here, that we can be sure of. At least in Rivendell, she has a chance." The villagers were silent for a moment, wondering what the man would choose, and minutes later, Harndun turned grieved eyes towards Strider.  
  
"You'd better stay true to your word, ranger, or you will meet death before you intended to." Strider nodded, taking the threat in stride. He turned to the area where the horses were being kept after being saved from the burning stable. He whistled loudly and called, "Arauka!" A moment later, a beautiful black horse came galloping down the road. So'be said in awe, "That's an Elven bred horse!"  
  
Arauka came to a stop next to Strider and nudged his shoulder questioningly. Strider smiled slightly and stroked her nose. "I'm fine, mellon nin. Are you well?" The horse bobbed its head, and Strider quickly checked over the saddle that had been hastily slapped on during the flight from the stable. He adjusted it and tightened the straps and turned to Harndun.  
  
"I will return as soon as she is able to ride, and that will not be for another month or so, I'm afraid." Harndun swallowed tightly but nodded. The ranger was his daughter's only chance. Strider knelt and picked up the unconscious girl from the soft grass. Turning he gave Arauka an appreciative nod when he saw she'd lain down, making it easier for him to mount. Once upon his charger, Strider nudged Arauka once, and the horse rose to her feet.  
  
So'be came up next to Strider and handed him his reigns. "Ride hard, my friend. Harndun will not forgive you if Nostela dies, and neither will Harod, I'm afraid. He's impulsive, prone to make rash decisions, and holds grudges to no end." Strider nodded, thanking So'be for his words. With a comforting glance to Harndun, Strider whispered to Arauka, and the horse charged into the distance.  
  
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Elladan looked over at his friend, utterly bored. Legolas looked back over at him, hiding a smile. "What, my friend? Is playing three pranks on Glorifindel in one day not enough for you? Bright green hair, slippery doorknobs that make it impossible to leave a room, and exchanging salt for sugar so that he would spit his tea all over the table. I think you outdid yourself, Elladan." At that moment, Elrohir walked into the room, cringing. "I did not know that Glorifindel held such a wide variety of curses, brother. He's still going strong from your hair dyeing job."  
  
Legolas moved to comment, but there was suddenly a shout from the palace guards. All three fighters jumped to their feet and ran to the downstairs hall. They could see a horse trotting down the path that led to the main palace. They saw two people on the horse; one small, in the front, and one large. Legolas grinned, "It's Aragorn. He came back earlier than he said he would." Elladan frowned. "Something doesn't seem right. Who's the child?"  
  
Elrohir started to make a point that the figure might not be a child, when they suddenly saw Aragorn fall from the saddle and slam into the unforgiving stone path. All three elves raced towards out the door. Elladan caught the horse's reigns and Elrohir caught the small girl, they now saw, as she started to slide from the saddle. The twins looked towards Legolas, who was just arriving at their fallen brother.  
  
Legolas quickly rolled the man from his stomach to his back, and swallowed as he saw dark smudges under Aragorn's eyes, both from ash and from lack of sleep. The man's breathing was labored, and it was clear that each breath he struggled to gain was painful. His eyes drifted open, unfocused, and he murmured, "Leg'las?" The elf prince nodded. "Yes, my friend. What happened?" Aragorn unknowingly switched into his more comfortable tongue. "There was a fire...saved Nostela and her brother. She's hurt. Get her to the healers." Legolas also switched to Elvish. "You are not well, my friend. You first. Her second."  
  
The Mirkwood prince was surprised in the ferocity in which Aragorn responded. "No! Tell Dan and Ro to take her to the healers. Just help her. Please, Legolas. Please." Legolas looked at his friend in disbelief, aware that Aragorn had never begged or pleaded for anything in his life, even to ask his father to let him go on a hunt. His shock turned to concern and Aragorn started to cough deep, curling up in a ball as his lungs ached painfully. Legolas rubbed his back in a soothing manner, his mind working overtime. He gestured to Elladan and Elrohir who were still standing at Arauka. "Elrohir, take the girl to Lord Elrond in the Hall of Healing. Elladan, help me with Aragorn. He's having troubles breathing."  
  
Elladan immediately knelt next to his brother and looked over him carefully. "You never come home uninjured, Estel." The other cracked open an eye and smiled slightly. "El'dan?" The elf squeezed his brother's arm tightly. "Don't worry. Father will have you on your feet in no time." Without too much trouble, Elladan and Legolas got Aragorn to his feet and supported him in between them. They hurried to the Hall of Healing, where they'd seen Elrohir disappear into, and slipped inside.  
  
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Aragorn looked down at the girl who lay struggling for her life. After being diagnosed with severe smoke inhalation and exhausted from his nonstop four-day ride from Nostela's hometown to Rivendell, Aragorn had been confined to bed rest. A command he'd been more than willing to break. He now sat silently in a chair, watching as a healer looked over the girl's burns once more. When the elf turned, he frowned to see Aragorn out of bed, but knew why he had to be at the girl's side.  
  
"How is she?" Aragorn's words were whispered through necessity, for his throat and lungs still troubled him, even after the healing draught he'd drunken. The healer looked at the girl and smoothed back her hair. "She's not doing well. Her body isn't combating the poison as it should, but the antidotes we've given her should help. We're also watching her pneumonia, but these problems pale in comparison to the burns that she received. Some are flash burns, and didn't penetrate very deep into her tissue. But others are deep, very deep. Were it not for the burns, I am completely positive that she'd live."  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes as realization set in. "Are you saying she's not going to live?" The healer took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm saying I'm very pessimistic at this point. Her body's not old enough to take this kind of stress." A pause, then, "It's very likely she'll die by morning." The young king of Gondor ran a hand through his hair and the healer quietly said, "You should be resting, healing." The ranger shook his head. "Very well. What would I know? I'm just a healer." Aragorn smiled, and he knew that was the point of his friend's jest. "Thank you for your help, my friend. May I sit with her?" The elf nodded and wisely slipped from the room.  
  
Aragorn leaned closer to the bed, watching as the girl coughed some and shifted in her sleep. *She's dreaming, and her ghosts do not seem pleasant.* The ranger leaned closer to the girl and took her small hand gently in his own. She seemed so tiny compared to him, and he shook his head. He was once that small, not very long ago. Seeing as she turned over, stressing her burns, Aragorn quietly spoke in Elvish. "It's okay, little one. It's all right." The girl opened bleary eyes towards the voice.  
  
"Papa?" Aragorn felt his heart clinch and he wondered if that's what Elrond felt every time he had been injured in bed. His attention was so focused on the girl that he didn't hear his Elven father come up behind him and watch him. "Shh, it's okay. Your father's not here right now." The girl squirmed against the pain in her body. "Harod? Brother?" Aragorn hung his head. He knew he should've brought the brother. "He's not here either. Neither is your uncle. But you'll see them soon." Elrond swallowed tightly as he heard his son make a promise both knew wouldn't be kept.  
  
"Strider?" Aragorn jerked his head up and saw the girl looking at him, clear gazed. "Yes, little one. It is I." The girl struggled to say something, and Aragorn shook his head. "Rest, Nostela. There will be time for talking later." The girl seemed appeased and her eyes slid shut. She squeezed Aragorn's hand once, pulled it away to rest under the covers, and fell asleep with her face towards him. Aragorn sat in that same position for three hours, his watchful eyes never leaving Nostela's face. In that time Elrond had come and gone, and never once had his foster son acknowledged his presence.  
  
It was just nearing midnight when Elrond came back for the third time. He'd been increasingly worried about his son, for he knew that smoke inhalation and exhaustion were not easily treated, nor ignored. Indeed, his case seem made for him, when Aragorn's eyes suddenly slid shut and he slumped forward. The Elven lord made use of his legs as he dashed to his son's side. He knelt and caught his son's limp form gently, and held him tightly. "Aragorn? Please wake up, my son." The man didn't stir and Elrond checked his son's skin temperature. He was horrified to find it several degrees higher than he would've liked. "Elladan! Elrohir! Come quick!"  
  
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It was a day later when Aragorn finally woke up again. At first he was confused when he saw where he was, but that quickly changed to shock. He moved to rise, but was startled when a hand seemed to come out of nowhere and push him back to the bed. "Rest, Aragorn. You weren't very wise to leave your bed to watch the girl." Aragorn turned bewildered eyes towards Legolas, who refused to answer him any questions until Aragorn had drunken some stale tasting water. "The smoke in your lungs caused an infection. You developed a fever, which we managed to break overnight. But we almost lost you." Aragorn barely registered his words. "Where's the girl?" Legolas looked down and sighed deeply before looking back up. "The healers...they did everything they could. But she...passed away, nearly two hours ago."  
  
Aragorn's reaction was expected, but that's why Legolas had taken the necessary precautions. Immediately, the young man started to get up, but Legolas just pushed his weakened body back down onto the bed. "You drugged me?" Legolas sighed in defeat. "I knew this is how you'd react. There's nothing you can do, Aragorn. She's gone. The last thing she said was, 'Harod did it.' Lord Elrond assumes it was a flashback from a previous incident in which she and her brother were in trouble." The sleeping drug was already beginning to work on Aragorn's body, and he groaned, "I promised them! I promised..." Legolas pushed Aragorn's dark hair from his face. "Rest, Aragorn. You'll need it."  
  
*END FLASHBACK*  
  
As Harod trailed off, Gandalf looked over at Aragorn, whose head was bowed and body slumped against his chains. "Surely you cannot hold him responsible for what happened." Harod shook his head and sighed. "Are you deaf, old man? He failed. He promised to return Nostela to us and he failed. He promised she would be okay and safe." Harod shook his head again. "Well, killer. How was your trip down memory lane?" The ranger didn't answer, and Harod hadn't expected him to.  
  
"Now then, what shall we do, eh? I figure I have until dawn to have fun, and then I'll have to kill you and get out of here before your blasted search party finds us." Aragorn still didn't answer, and Harod walked up to him and raised his head with the dagger. He found it quite funny that Aragorn had unshed tears in his eyes. "What's the matter Aragorn? The memories of a dead girl's blood on your hands too much?" Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, but Harod suddenly buried his fist in his stomach. The move caught Aragorn by surprise and he coughed hard, expertly hiding the blood from Harod.  
  
"Now, what shall we do?" Harod moved over to the fire and picked up one of the logs that were burning at the end only. He brought it over to Aragorn and waved it around lazily. "Well, shall we see exactly what Nostela went through?" Harod slammed the log into thee dirt to douse the flames but keep the embers. When he brought it back up, he held the glowing end by Aragorn's face.  
  
"Ever been burned, killer? Have you ever gotten to feel your flesh being stripped away by the extreme heat?" Aragorn seemed to find his voice for the first time in an hour. "No, never had the pleasure." Without a word, Harod placed the smoldering wood against Aragorn's chest, right when the Evenstar pendant had hung. Aragorn inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut, but didn't move or cry out. Harod moved the heat away and Aragorn exhaled deeply. "Aww, now killer, it's not fun for me if you don't make noise."  
  
Aragorn's eyes slid open and he fixed the man with a pained stare. "You're insane." It is not wise to insult your captor; Aragorn was soon going to find out. With a harsh stab, Harod slammed the burning stick into Aragorn's left bare hand, hanging in the shackles. This time, Aragorn gave a startled cry as his hand spasmed painfully. Harod grinned and threw the wood back into the fire. "Good! You see, it's not that hard. You do what I say, and the pain will pass." Aragorn struggled for breath and he managed to meet Harod's eyes. "Killing me will not bring your sister back." Harod shook his head. "I know. But it will make this whole thing somewhat bearable, for one of us, at least."  
  
Harod moved back to his pack and grabbed a dagger. He twirled it in his hands and walked slowly up to Legolas, who was still combating the pain from his fireball. "Well, elf, how does it feel to know your best friend is a killer." Legolas swallowed hard, and he ground out, "You don't know what happened after he woke up again. You don't even know..." Harod frowned and walked over to Aragorn, held the dagger against his cheek, and asked with genuine curiosity, "What happened after you woke up, killer?"  
  
Aragorn averted his eyes and kept his mouth shut. Irritated, Harod pressed the blade against the cut on Aragorn's face, causing more blood to pool out. Harod looked at Legolas without letting up pressure. "Elf? Are you going to tell me?" Harod suddenly slipped the blade into the cut, and Aragorn inhaled sharply, but did not cry out. Harod slid the knife lower and lower, until it reached the place where parted skin met smooth skin. When Legolas still didn't speak, Harod jerked the knife savagely downward, tearing through the bloody flesh on Aragorn's face.  
  
The move elicited a partially muffled whimper from Aragorn, who immediately bit his lip. Harod had kept his eyes on the elf as he'd pulled the dagger, and had noticed that Legolas' eyes had traveled to Aragorn's bound hands. Frowning, Harod also looked in the direction and asked, "What does this elf find so interesting in your hands, killer?" Aragorn's head jerked up, and his desperate eyes met with Legolas' guilty ones.  
  
*I couldn't let him keep hurting you, my brother. Please understand.* Aragorn nodded slightly and turned his attention to Harod, who was looking carefully at Aragorn's right wrist. After a moment, he chuckled and took a step back. "Oh my. Isn't this nice? Here we have Aragorn, killer of my sister, and heir to the throne of Gondor. And he's suicidal." Gimli's head whipped around and his mouth opened in shock. "Suicidal? Stupid sometimes, and foolhardy, but I can assure you; he's not suicidal."  
  
Gandalf took in the way Aragorn's eyes were guarded but troubled and quietly asked, "What happened?" The other shook his head decisively. "I did something stupid. And foolhardy. But it's in the past." Harod shook his head. "Now come, killer. 'Once a wolf has had a taste of blood, it will crave nothing else.' Surely you've heard that saying, being a ranger and all. But let's alter it a bit, shall we?" Aragorn stayed silent, and Harod thought for a moment, then lavishly said, "Once a Man has had a taste of his power over life and death, he will think of nothing else."  
  
Aragorn raised his eyes at this and whispered, "It's in the past." Harod sat next to the fire, leaning casually against a tree trunk. "Keep telling yourself that. But think of everything you've put yourself through since then. Let's start with the easiest and most recent, shall we? You decide to go on a quest to Mordor, the very land where all evil gathers to. Then, you decide to track some Uruk-hai across unfamiliar territory. After that, you enter Fangorn forest. Then, you head to Helm's Deep, where you and your silly army of, at the most, including elves, seven hundred, take on an army of ten thousand Uruk-hai."  
  
A pause, then Harod shook his head and said with a smile, "Sure seems to me like you're trying to get yourself killed." A sudden look of glee passed over Harod's face, and he stood excitedly. Fear knotted itself deep in the captives' stomachs. "Oh, this is just too good to be true. I am a genius!" Harod paced around the fire, his eyes fiery, until he stopped some minutes later. "Alright. Killer, how much do you value your friends' lives?" Aragorn's eyes were wary. "Why?" Harod shrugged and waved a hand in Aragorn's direction.  
  
Everyone was shocked when the chains fell from Aragorn's limbs. Without the support, the ranger's weakened body fell forward, and the Man barely caught himself on his hands. The jar of the landing shook his ribs, and Aragorn barely held down another coughing fit. He looked up at Harod painfully and asked in a strained whisper, "Now what are you doing?" Harod turned around for a moment, and Aragorn saw the rwocuel in his quiver. When Harod turned round again, Aragorn's eyes were not on the dagger in his hand, but on the small, salamander-like creature that rested on his shoulders.  
  
"Now, we'll finish this. Or rather, you'll finish this." Aragorn's eyes widened, and his fears were confirmed when Harod nonchalantly said, "You're going to slit your wrists, just like you did all those years ago. If you refuse, or if you try to escape, I will not hesitate to kill your friends." Aragorn didn't move, didn't breath. His mind screamed at him to find alternatives, or ways to stall, but one look at Harod's face told him that his tormenter was not about to have his plan thwarted.  
  
Harod threw the dagger in front of Aragorn and watched him carefully. "Pick it up." Aragorn's hands moved mechanically, slowly, as though he were resigned to his fate. When he held the dagger, Harod raised a fireball, and Aragorn watched as it split into three parts, each hovering at the eye level of his friends. "I have been waiting a long time for this, Aragorn. Ever since you came back to Shinow, ever since you came riding up on that black steed with her small body wrapped in the blanket, I've been waiting for this."  
  
He raised his chin, and in a neutral voice, ordered, "Do it." Aragorn looked at Legolas, who was straining against his shackles, his face panicked. His gaze drifted to Gandalf, who seemed to be struggling with words that would not make it past a lump in his throat. Aragorn looked at Gimli, who was looking at him in disbelief, shaking his head. "We aren't worth your life, lad. You've got a country to run." Harod suddenly shouted, "Do it!" Aragorn turned his eyes once more to Harod, then looked down at the dagger. With a small, smooth stroke, Aragorn slid the sharp blade against his wrist, the sharp edge easily slicing through the thin membrane that covered his veins. Instantly, his hand was slick with hot blood.  
  
"Now the other one." Aragorn looked towards his other wrist, and with some difficulty, switched the blade from his right hand to his left and once again laid the blade across his skin. He pulled it suddenly, harshly, and with speed that not even Legolas could compete, threw the dagger at Harod. The ranger's aim was true, and the dagger inserted itself into Harod's shoulder, piercing the rwocuel through its back. The creature squealed, and both the shock of the pain and the sharp sound in his ear made Harod stumble backwards, tripping over a root. He fell to the ground, and his head slammed against a rock, cracking his skull, killing him instantly.  
  
His eyes remained open, surprised in the face of death, and Aragorn looked at his enemy's body tiredly. "You're right. I did end it." With a faint smile, Aragorn's eyes slid shut and he slumped to the ground. Silence filled the area, other than the woodland creatures that went along their business. "Aragorn!" Legolas' cry was not answered, and the elf turned to Gandalf. "Can you use your powers to break free?" Gandalf quickly answered, "No, that power-sapping creature is still alive." Legolas focused his senses on the rwocuel and his eyes narrowed. "It's dying, slowly." Gimli pulled angrily at his bonds, and turned once again to Aragorn's still body.  
  
"Come on, lad! You've cheated death before, so don't stop." Legolas looked at his friend in hopelessness, and silently offered a prayer to the Valar, begging them to spare his friend's life. There was suddenly a hush among the woods, and Legolas looked around, alarmed. A moment later, a harsh wind blew by, putting out the fire with a burst of air. Gandalf looked at Legolas, who merely shrugged.  
  
A moment later, a light was seen through the trees, coming towards the group. It was an ethereal light, not one of fire, and the three stared at it, entranced. It came through the foliage, quiet as a summer breeze, and stepped into the camp. "It's a girl." Gimli's voice was one of awe, and Legolas shook his head slightly. "It's Nostela." Gandalf kept his eyes on the glowing figure, aware that the being was light and not of flesh and bone, and took in her young appearance and innocent eyes. She looked at the three and smiled sweetly. "You are afraid. Do not be. I have not come here to harm." The girl didn't speak to them again and walked towards Aragorn's body in bare feet.  
  
She knelt next to him, and with a feather light touch, turned him over. His eyes were closed, and he was not breathing. Nostela placed a hand on his heart and softly said, "Wake up, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Your job is not finished here in this world." The Man's lips parted slightly as he took a breath, and his eyes opened hazily. They widened slightly as they saw the girl, and he whispered painfully, "Nostela." The girl nodded. "My brother was misguided and hateful, but towards the wrong person. He started the fire, Aragorn. He was responsible for my death, not you." The ranger didn't want to believe this. "But you..." Nostela nodded, reading his thoughts. "Yes, I was poisoned, but it was the fire that took my life. Your father told you that, Aragorn, but you denied it, believing it was you to blame for my death."  
  
She leaned closer and smiled. "It was not your fault, Aragorn." The other closed his eyes as a wave of pain washed over his senses. When he opened them again, Nostela whispered, "Harod was trying to make atonement by shedding your blood. But it was his blood that needed to be shed. I am at peace, son of Arathorn. I thank you." Aragorn smiled slightly, and Legolas could sense that a heavy burden had been lifted from his friend's soul. He frowned, though, as Aragorn's eyes slid closed again, but did not open. Nostela touched each of his wrists, then stood. She smiled again towards the ranger, then, like a bank of fog being burned off by the morning sun, she disappeared.  
  
There was a sudden crash at the other side of the trees, and a moment later, four horses and three foot soldiers burst into the clearing, carrying torches, their bows were drawn and their swords readied. They relaxed slightly, though, when they saw that the only people there were either bound or down. "Èomer! Théoden! Quickly, untie us." The foot soldiers quickly went to work on their shackles while Èomer slid from his horse and hurried to Aragorn's side. "What happened to him?" Legolas, who was the first to be unshackled, hurried to his best friend. "He saved our lives by giving his." Èomer put on a puzzled frown, but nodded. Gandalf was next to get to Aragorn's side. "He's lost a lot of blood and has internal injuries. We need to get him to a healer."  
  
Èomer closed his eyes and shook his head in defeat. "There isn't a village for miles, two days' ride at least. His best bet is Helm's Deep." Legolas nodded. "He's right. Èomer, I can ride faster. Lend me a horse." Èomer shook his head. "Nay, master elf. You're injured as well." Turning towards his men, he ordered, "The dwarf and elf shall share a horse. Gandalf, I assume you will ride Shadowfax." He gestured to the pure white horse that had appeared in the camp. "I shall take Aragorn." Seeing that arguing would get him nowhere, Legolas agreed and pulled himself up onto the horse offered, with little less than his usual grace. Gimli was placed behind him, and both watched as Èomer and Gandalf put Aragorn onto Èomer's horse.  
  
Théoden had dismounted and was looking carefully at the ground. "There's enough blood here for two people!" Legolas swallowed hard and said, "Two people. Two enemies. A big misunderstanding." Suddenly, Legolas sprung from his horse and ran to Harod's rapidly stiffening body. He ignored the cries of protest from the others and fished through the man's pockets rapidly, panicked. Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief as he found what he was looking for. He pulled the Evenstar pendant from Harod's pocket and held it tightly in his hand. With a relieved sigh, he turned and mounted again, this time with his usual Elven grace.  
  
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Èomer rode swiftly but carefully, aware of the tenuous hold on life the man in front of him had. Every couple of minutes, Èomer would reach up and check Aragorn's pulse, assuring himself that the ranger was still with them. Unbidden, thoughts of him riding to Edoras with Théodred sitting limp in front of him swam through his head. A moan brought him, thankfully, from his memories. "Peace, Aragorn. We're taking you back to Helm's Deep." Èomer felt the man tense up against him as his body battled the pain. "Nostela...?" Èomer shook his head, deciding that Aragorn was delirious. "Rest, my friend. We'll be there soon."  
  
He was relieved when Aragorn's head fell back on his shoulder as his body went slack in his arms, signaling the retreat of consciousness once again. Looking beside him, Èomer saw Legolas and Gimli ride up beside him. "How does he fare?" Èomer shook his head at Legolas question. "We must make haste towards Helm's Deep. I fear he is fading." As if in response to Èomer statement, Aragorn coughed weakly, and Legolas swallowed hard as he saw the blood on his friend's lips.  
  
"There must be someplace closer we can take him! Anywhere!" Gimli suggested, "Maybe we could send for his Elven family? I overheard Aragorn talking about them with the lady Èowyn. He said that they were headed this way anyhow, to help him with his upcoming difficulties at Gondor. I believe he said they were at the Fords of Isen." Legolas frowned at the irony; that's where Aragorn had taken his 'little trip off the cliff'.  
  
After a moment, he nodded. "We have no other choice. He will not make it to Helm's Deep. We are still a day off." Turning, Legolas looked at Gandalf, then pulled his horse back until it ran alongside Shadowfax. "Gandalf, we need Shadowfax' help. We need to summon Elrond and his sons from the Fords of Isen. Aragorn will not last until Helm's Deep."  
  
Gandalf called over the pounding of hooves, "I fear you are right! I have felt his life slipping away." The Istar leant towards Shadowfax' head and whispered something in an age-old language. After a moment, Shadowfax reared its head and whinnied loudly enough to make Legolas wince. The horses around them also whinnied, and all of them stepped up their pace. Unsure of what to do, Legolas kept his horse alongside of Shadowfax, until the horse whinnied some minutes later. "He's alerted the horses of Elrond and his company. They will meet us halfway to Helm's Deep." Fearing to ask, but needing to know, Legolas asked carefully, "And of Arwen Undomiél?"  
  
Gandalf sighed tiredly, then said, "She has not taken the ship to the Undying Lands. She is a day behind Elrond, in a separate party. Her horses also know of Aragorn's plight, and I assure you, we will se her before long." Legolas nodded, unsure of whether to be happy or not. Instead of choosing, he just turned his full attention to his friend, and saving his life.  
  
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Legolas shook his head to clear it as his mind begged for Elven dreams. Behind him, Gimli was reciting some dwarven tale about Moria. "Gimli, you've been saying that one for the last three hours. Don't you have something else to recite?" The dwarf ceased his mutterings and made no move to reply, for he could make out eight riders to the east. "Legolas, I believe we have company." The elf jerked his head and looked in the direction of the slowly setting sun.  
  
"Èomer! Théoden! Riders to the east!" The company slowed to a halt and turned their horses in that direction. Legolas kept his horse right next to Èomer, and made sure his bow and twin knives were in easy reach. His fears proved to be founded poorly when his eyes could finally make out the faces. "Peace! It's Elrond Halfelven and his company."  
  
Moments later, Gandalf rode from the company to greet them. When he arrived there, he saw Elladan and Elrohir riding beside their father, exchanging glances. At Elrond's nod, the twins kicked their horses and streaked past Gandalf towards the company. Elrond turned his attention to Gandalf. "What happened? All of a sudden, none of our horses responded to our commands and they kept riding west!" Gandalf sighed tiredly. "It was Harod, Harndun's son, coming to claim revenge on Aragorn for Nostela's death. I am glossing over the truth when I say he is hurt badly."  
  
Elrond went pale at Gandalf's words and asked quietly, "What did he do?" Gandalf swallowed hard as he remembered. "Beatings, cuttings, burnings; trust me, Harod was crazy." Elrond looked towards the company and watched as his sons reached the other company. "I'll do what I can."  
  
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Èomer was slightly surprised when two young looking elves rode up to him and ordered him to give up Aragorn. However, at Legolas' calm face, he nodded. He watched with interest as the two elves carefully pulled Aragorn to the ground from his horse. "Who are you?" The one who seemed in charge looked up quickly and said, "I'm Elladan, this is my twin Elrohir. We're Estel's brothers." He didn't catch Èomer's confused expression and went back to his brother.  
  
Elrohir was holding Aragorn against his shoulder, supporting him with his own body. Tears were in his eyes as he choked out, "Estel? Tithen gwador, please answer me!" Elladan fell to his knees and started looking over his brother's still form. He winced at the damaged side of Aragorn's face, then proceeded to check him over, just as Elrond had taught him over the decades. It was only when he was checking his chafed wrists did he realize something. "He's bleeding from his mouth." Èomer nodded and Legolas slid from his horse to help Elladan.  
  
"I was unconscious at the time, but from what Gimli and Gandalf said, he's had internal injuries since we were captured, nearly three days ago. Harod- " Elladan cut him off dangerously, his eyes a frightening shade of black. "Harod did this to him!?!? Where is he? I'll tear his heart out!" Legolas placed a restraining hand on the elf's arm. "Peace, my friend. He's dead. Aragorn killed him. Threw a dagger and caught Harod off guard. He fell and broke his skull against the earth." Elladan's hands squeezed into fists, his eyes flashing. "He deserved worse. Estel should never have gone through this! It wasn't his fault!" Legolas sighed tiredly. "I know, Elladan, I know. But he did go through it, and there's nothing anyone can do to change that."  
  
A soft voice startled them. "Wish they could." Everyone looked down at Aragorn, whose eyes were closed, but he was conscious; that much was apparent from the way his body was tensed. "Estel!" Aragorn's eyes slid open, shock registering in their depths. "Ro?" His eyes darted around, hazily taking in everyone's faces. "Dan? What...?" Legolas quieted him. "Your brothers and Elrond are here. They're going to help you." Aragorn smiled faintly and his eyes slid shut. "They won the bet." A moment later, his body went slack in Elrohir's arms. The younger twin quickly felt for a pulse. "He's not going to last."  
  
Èomer asked curiously, "What did he mean?" Elladan smiled slightly. "We had a bet going on whether or not Estel here would need us to patch him up before he takes the throne of Gondor. We said yes, him, no. We won." He slipped back into a serious mindset and called, "Ada! We will need to make camp for the night." The elf lord came riding up on his horse and his face creased with worry and anger as he took in his son's limp form.  
  
"Oh Estel. Never do things halfway, do you?" Elrond shook his head and ordered, "Elladan, Elrohir, you're in charge of Estel until we get camp set up. Monitor him closely." Elladan nodded and Elrond knew he wouldn't fail his task. "Théoden King, it's good to see you." Théoden nodded to the elf. "As it is good to see you, Elrond Halfelven. I did not know you had ties to Aragorn." The elf lord glanced at the motionless ranger again. "He's my son, Théoden." Èomer frowned, but nodded. Elladan and Elrohir stayed by Aragorn's side as the rest of the company broke camp.  
  
Legolas also stayed with them, his still rather painful injury prohibiting him from helping make camp. While he sat with them, Elladan tended his wound and quietly asked, "What happened?" Legolas frowned and swallowed hard. "He just came out of nowhere. I didn't even sense him! I think it had something to do with a rwocuel he'd acquired." Legolas nodded at Elladan's questioning glance. "I don't know how he got it, but he said he found it in Mordor."  
  
Elrohir shuddered and Legolas cast him a sympathetic glance before continuing. "He warned us not to try anything, but when Aragorn got an opening, he ordered our horses to run and stuck his broche in the saddle of Arod so to alert the guards of Helm's Deep that we were in trouble. Harod...didn't like this and shot me with some sort of energy sphere. I was knocked out by it." Elladan jumped and asked quickly, "That's it? What happened after that?"  
  
Another voice came up behind them. "And then the wizard and I were forced to carry Legolas heavy mass to the woods you found us at." Legolas smiled slightly as his dear friend's jest and allowed him to take a seat and continue his story. "It took us a day and a half to get there. The demon that went by the name of Harod had tied up Aragorn in such a way that he would have serious problems breathing if he moved is hands, and Harod also had a 'leash' on Aragorn's collar, to control him. But his problems were already compacted by the beating that Harod had given him right after Legolas here was knocked unconscious."  
  
Elladan closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Oh Estel..." So caught up were the elves that they didn't notice Èomer and Théoden listening into their conversation. "I thought this would be over after he came back. I mean, he tried to kill himself, but then Legolas...you helped bring him back. And then he left. Just...vanished, into the Wild. I thought he was dead until he came to Rivendell with the hobbits." Legolas nodded, looking at the ashen face of his dearest friend. "I never thought I'd see him alive, not after he left. I thought for sure he'd try to kill himself again." Elrohir offered, "It seems to me like he found something to live for. Like he wanted to absolve himself of his guilt by saving other people and stopping Mordor."  
  
Legolas was silent, then said, "Harod made him do it again. Made him slit his wrists. It was my fault he found out; Aragorn wouldn't tell him what he wanted to know, and he kept hurting him...I couldn't let Harod do that." Elladan narrowed his eyes. "He slit his wrists again? Of his own free will? He said he was fine; no, he was fine! I felt it! He decided to accept the throne! Why did he do it again?" Gimli coughed slightly. "Harod gave him a choice." No more words were needed, and Elladan's fists clenched angrily. "If Harod were alive, I'd slaughter him for placing that choice in front of my little brother."  
  
Legolas nodded silently, his thoughts racing around in his head. "So he just did it. He slit one wrist, then, when he went to cut the other, he just...pulled it across his skin and threw the dagger at Harod. He fell; it killed him." Elrohir looked at Aragorn, who was still lying against him. "He's hurt. He's hurt bad. And it's not just physical."  
  
Legolas didn't answer.  
  
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An agonized cry ran through the camp, causing Èomer to shiver. He looked to his uncle, and Théoden merely kept his eyes glued to the fire. Beside Èomer, Gimli fiddled with a small stick, breaking it every time he heard his friend cry out.  
  
The ground was littered with broken sticks.  
  
Another cry came, this one full of pain, and Gimli could hear an Elvish word mixed in; "Tampa!" Swallowing through a suddenly dry throat, Gimli turned slightly and looked over his shoulder. The elves were all gathered in one place, next to another fire. The cries were issuing from the person they worked on.  
  
"Tampa, putta tampa!" Gimli growled low in his throat and snapped the twig in his hands. "I do not see why they could not put him to sleep. What they're doing is tantamount to torture, which, I believe, he was already put through!" Èomer sighed and once again explained, "They are fearful that if they use sleeping herbs, he will never awake again. They're doing this for his own good."  
  
A figure suddenly stumbled into the light of the fire. Elladan fell to his knees in front of the fire, his fists clenched, his breath hitching. "That...bastard. That damn bastard. He nearly killed Estel. He nearly killed him." He kept whispering this, his eyes dark, his nails drawing blood from the palms of his hands. His eyes were haunted and full of rage, and Gimli placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, bringing Elladan out of his trance.  
  
The dwarf looked into the young face of the elf with more compassion than one would think possible for his race. "He'll be alright, laddie. He's Aragorn, after all. More lives than a bewitched cat. But he'll pull through, Elladan, just wait." The elf couldn't stop the tears that slipped down his face. "He hurt him...he hurt him so much...how can he even go on living...it's just like mother..." Another figure came into the light of the fire.  
  
"C'mon, laddie. Sit down before you fall down." Elrohir dropped to his knees beside his brother, and Elladan looked over at his twin. He saw that Elrohir's eyes were red, and there were tracks through the dirt on his face. Tear tracks. "Brother, I won't be able to live if he passes." His words were spoken in Elvish, and Elladan sobbed, "He will live, Elrohir! He has to!" Elrohir didn't answer, but tears ran down his face, and he leaned into the welcoming comfort of his brother's arms.  
  
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Legolas looked at the other fire and watched with a heavy heart as Elladan and Elrohir comforted each other. He looked back at Elrond, who was just finishing up doing what he could. Small incisions in Aragorn's chest told of the elf lord's operation, and the tears that still trailed down Aragorn's face told of his pain. Elrond turned weary eyes to Legolas, whose eyes asked the question his mouth could not form.  
  
"He will not last the night, Legolas. His wounds are too grievous. Perhaps if we'd gotten to him sooner...I am sorry." Elrond knew that Aragorn considered Legolas his brother above all else, for the two had spent many years, many journeys, and many battles, side by side. Yes, he'd hurt from Aragorn's death, but Legolas would hurt more.  
  
Elrond stood and walked to his other sons and started to wordlessly console them while Legolas turned teary eyes to Aragorn. "Mellon nin...please, don't leave me." Aragorn's eyes slid open, and they were cloudy and glazed over. "Legolas...it is not my choice." The other shook his head fiercely. "Nay! It is your choice! Yours and yours alone, Aragorn." The ranger's eyes slid shut for a moment, and Legolas grabbed his uninjured hand and squeezed it tightly. "Don't leave, Aragorn!" The jerk made Aragorn's eyes snap open as his chest screamed.  
  
"Legolas...the Evenstar?" Knowing what his friend meant, Legolas grabbed the pendant from his tunic pocket. He placed it in Aragorn's hand and closed it around it, then said, "She is waiting for you, Aragorn." The pendant brought a small light to Aragorn's eyes, but it quickly died. With obvious effort, he held the jewel towards Legolas, whose mouth dropped open. "Give it to her, Legolas. Tell her...that I am sorry." Legolas watched his hands move forward and take the pendant.  
  
"I cannot do what it is you ask me to do." Aragorn grasped his hand tightly as a wave of pain roiled through his body. "Legolas, please. Promise me something." Legolas took his friend's hand tightly in both his hands and whispered, "Anything, Aragorn." Aragorn's words shook, though from pain, fear, or exhaustion, he did not know. "Make sure she goes to the Gray Havens. Make sure...she leaves Middle Earth." Legolas clenched his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, he saw Aragorn looking at him with a clear gaze.  
  
"Legolas, please." His words were no longer whispered, and they no longer wavered. Legolas nodded. "I promise, my friend, that she will be safe, and leave for Valinor." Aragorn smiled slightly, and his eyes slid closed. His hand went slack in Legolas', and his breathing slowed. A moment later, it stopped altogether. Legolas placed a hand on his friend's face and whispered, "Elen sila lumenn omentilmo. Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle. Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'. Tenna' ento lye omenta."* He leaned down and placed his lips against Aragorn's forehead, and sent a prayer to the Valar for his soul to find the halls of Mandos to his liking. When he drew back, he sat for a moment longer, then stood. He looked down at the body of his friend, his closest companion, and his brother.  
  
And he wept.  
  
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Elladan and Elrohir looked down at the still body of their brother. Elladan had a comforting hand around Elrohir's shoulders, and both had tears streaming down their faces. Legolas stood off to the side, comforting Gimli, who was also sobbing. Elrond kneeled next to his youngest son and whispered a prayer in Elvish. Théoden and Èomer stood back, allowing the elves to grieve. Suddenly, there was a piercing cry through the darkness. Everyone jerked and turned their eyes outwards.  
  
"Orcs! Attracted by the fires!" Elrond hastily threw a fine Elven cloak over his son's form and ordered, "Fight them off. There aren't that many." Legolas was about to ask Aragorn if he could tell how many exactly by their footfalls, but caught himself and closed his eyes in anguish. When he opened them, the depths of his eyes were dark with revenge. The orcs were not Harod, but they would pay for Aragorn's death.  
  
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Legolas looked around wearily as he watched the last orc loose its head. The others had been run off. He wiped his daggers on his cloak and nearly passed out. Gimli caught him and yelled, "This elf is in need of sleep!" Elrond came up to him, looking slightly awkward, but, nonetheless, regal with a sword in his hand and a bow over his back. "Legolas? What ails you?" Legolas allowed himself to sit down. "Tired. Haven't slept for five days." He would've added that his best friend had just died, but he knew that much was apparent in his eyes.  
  
There was suddenly a cry of fear, pain, and shock from the other side of the small battlefield. Allowing Elrond to help him up, Legolas stepped carefully over the bodies of orcs and made his way to Elladan's side. "What is it, my friend?" Elladan just pointed. There, on the ground, surrounded by several boot marks, was a cloak.  
  
And the place stood empty.  
  
Aragorn's body was gone.  
  
Legolas closed his eyes and ground out, "They must've taken his body as a trophy, or..." He would not say for dinner, but then another thought crossed his mind. "What if they knew who he was? What if they're taking his body to Sauron to inform him his victory is sealed?" Elrond swallowed hard and stayed silent. Elladan cried silently, and Legolas suddenly felt a flash of light in his mind. He turned and looked towards the dawn, curious. He couldn't see anything, but he heard something on the wind.  
  
"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring; renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king."  
  
Legolas felt a smile alight upon his lips, and he whispered, "You are alive, Aragorn. Through what powers, I do not know. But I shall wait for your return. Until we meet again, my friend."  
  
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I CAN'T BELIEVE I KILLED HIM!!! Oh well, I guess he's not really dead...he he he. I will start working on the third and final story of my trilogy, When Gold Does Not Glitter. Take care everyone!  
  
* A star shall shine on the hour of our meeting. May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back. My heart shall weep until it sees thee again. Until we next meet. 


End file.
